


After The Door Closes

by Artemis_sagitta_graphia



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cussing, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Fluff, Headcanon, I'll probably add more tags later, Not Lore Friendly, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Some Plot, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13922187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_sagitta_graphia/pseuds/Artemis_sagitta_graphia
Summary: This is just a little idea I had of what might have happened to Danse after the events of Blind Betrayal, based on the dialogue option where Danse leaves the Commonwealth.He'll encounter new people, new environments, and face a whole new set of challenges while coming to terms with his true identity.And maybe, if he's lucky, he'll find love.





	1. Falling Into Darkness

 

 

Alone.

He was right back to where he'd started from just over a decade ago. No family, no home, nothing to live for.

Nate had somehow managed to talk Maxson out of executing him. But for what? So he could sit around and slowly go mad with nothing to do? Or maybe the loneliness would cause his brain to malfunction and he'd go on a killing spree - if he didn't just shoot himself in the head long before that.

Could he even kill himself? Would that be against whatever programming the Institute had embedded into his head? Would the chip they'd stuck deep inside, trigger an alert and prevent him from taking his own life? Or maybe it had already malfunctioned and that's why he'd thought he was human all these years. Yet that only brought up more questions.

Danse sighed as he trudged up a broken road.

If he'd been created in the Institute, and it was in the Commonwealth, how had he gotten to the Capital Wasteland? Had he made the trip alone, or had someone helped him? If he'd had help, who'd done it, and why had they left him?

He couldn't remember anything about his early life - if that's what he could call it. Was he living? How could machines call themselves "living"? Although, he knew he needed oxygen to breath; food to eat; water to drink; rest to recuperate. Without those things, he would die, so technically that meant he was alive. Right?

Nate was afraid for him; afraid Maxson would change his mind and send more soldiers out to finish the job he'd failed to complete. No, not failed; refused. Danse wanted to stay in the Commonwealth and help Nate find his son, but it wasn't safe, and Nate had made him promise to leave - to pack up and head far away from Maxson and the reach of the Brotherhood. So he had.

Was there even a point to his existence? Other than the intended purpose of being a slave to the people that had created him, he didn't know what else he could do. The Brotherhood of Steel had been all he'd ever known, and now he had nothing but the clothes he wore, and the few belongings in his pack.

Topping a little hill, he looked west into the horizon, lit orange and pink and purple by the setting sun.

He needed a place to bivouac for the night. He'd already traveled many days from Boston, and though putting a few more miles between himself and Maxson would be smart, it was also dangerous to travel at night, especially now that the only armor he had was the few pieces of heavy leather that Nate had managed to scrounge up for him, and the only weapon was an old assault rifle he'd purchased from the caravan trader in Sanctuary as he'd passed through. If he were attacked by a Deathclaw, he'd be a goner within seconds.

Running his eyes along the landscape Danse spotted what looked like a small cabin in the near distance. It was hard to tell through the crowded trunks of the tall trees. There was no movement around it, and no lights that he could see. He would need to get closer to be able to tell for sure whether it was abandoned or not. There was still too much sunlight and far too many trees between him and the cabin to get a clear view.

He stepped off the road and picked his way carefully through the tangled debris of old trees and fallen limbs, working his way forward. It was odd, he thought, that the farther north and west he'd gone from Boston, the greener the land had become. The trees actually had leaves here, and bushes filled out more and more, until he could no longer see bare branches and limbs. He'd seen more radstags, too. And, if he's eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him in the fading hours of dusk, the last one he'd seen the previous day only had one head, and one pair of forelegs - which either meant that it hadn't been mutated at all, or he'd been imagining things.

Nothing but the sound of crickets met his ears when he finally reached the side of the building. He couldn't see any signs of life around it, the whole area strewn with old branches, decaying leaves and pieces of broken furniture. He peeked around the corner to the front of the building.

An old sign post was leaning near the door and he walked to it to read the plaque that was barely hanging on.

_Toll Booth......Appalachian Trail._

Well, he didn't know what either of those were, but....

Danse looked back at the building, studying it for a minute. It wasn't going to be as sound as a military bunker or as homey as his old quarters in the Prydwen, but it looked semi-solid and large enough to at least hold his sleeping bag - keep any rain off his head, and the animals outside, at any rate.

He lifted the handle and pushed the door open, and was immediately forced to take a step back as dust and some debris came down from the ceiling, filling the entrance. He waved it away from his face and waited a moment for it to clear before stepping inside. It was small, just barely taller than his head, but it was wider than he'd thought, even consisting of a tiny bathroom that held a sink and a broken toilet.

_Better than getting caught outdoors in the dark._

He moved some broken shelves and cleared out a place for his bag, then shut the door and bolted it. There would be no fire tonight, but he probably wouldn't need one. The temperatures during the Summer months could get chilly, but only if you had to sleep out in the wind.

Pulling a can of Pork N' Beans from his pack, he hacked it open with his knife and stuck his spoon into it. They didn't taste great cold, but it was better than starving. He sat down on his bag and leaned back against the wall to eat, listening to the sounds of the environment outside the little shelter as he considered his next move.

He really had no idea where he was going, his only thought had been to head away from the coast. For the last few days he'd traveled more north. Maybe it was about time he headed more west?

Even still, where would he stop? What would happen if he came across a settled area? He couldn't simply live among people without telling them what he was, that his mere presence was a danger to them. It would be lying by omission, and he couldn't do that. But even if they accepted him, accepted the risk....what would he do then? Unless their settlement was in need of a guard, or a junk stand, he didn't see how he'd fit in.

Danse finished his meal and drank some water, considering whether or not to light a candle. He had nothing to do, and night was approaching swiftly.

_Better not waste supplies._

He cleaned off his spoon and replaced it in his pack, tossed the can in an old heap of trash and shucked his boots, climbing into his sleeping bag to welcome the night. He lay there for what seemed like hours, his ears attuned to every creak, and thunk in the vicinity as all the daytime creatures snuck home before dark. Pretty soon, even the birds stopped chirping.

Something called in the distance. Not a frightened sound, nor as a warning of danger. It was actually a pleasant, soothing sound, repeated every minute or so with a soft call as if it were asking him who he was - "Who? Who?"

Danse thought it was a valid question. Who the hell was he?

If someone had asked him that a month ago he wouldn't have hesitated to say he was "Paladin Danse, member of the Brotherhood of Steel". But now? He certainly wasn't about to call himself M7-97, yet did he have any right to call himself Danse? He didn't know if he'd chosen it, or if someone had given it to him. All he could remember was being asked the same question long ago, and the words that had tumbled from his mouth without thought were the ones he'd been known by ever since.

His eyes closed and he let out a long breath, snuggling deeper into his bag.

_Torian Danse._

He liked his name, despite only having been addressed by his Brotherhood title more often than not over the last many years. Whoever had chosen it, he thought it fit him. Different, yet easy to grasp. Sort of flowed off the tongue, while still having a sense of uniqueness that made him sound special.

But he wasn't special, now was he? He was nothing more than a freak. An abomination of mankind's arrogance with technology and science that had gotten out of control.

For the hundredth time in the past two weeks he considered ending his life. It was likely safer for everyone if he did. But the thought of Nate prevented him from doing it. Nate had risked everything to save him; had gone face to face with Maxson and won....so that Danse could live. If he took his life now, everything Nate put on the line would have been for nothing, and he couldn't disrespect his friends' sacrifice that way.

A branch snapped out among the trees and Danse's eyes sprung open, ears pricked alert. Silence. No sound for several heartbeats, until another twig snapped. Closer now, just outside the small clearing around the building.

He eased from his bag and picked up his weapon, sneaking quietly to the window and peeking out between the slats. Everything was near black. He couldn't even make out the sign post that stood just a few feet in front of the door.

He waited, forcing himself to breathe easy and slow.

A low throaty rumble emanated from the other side of the wall and he tried to locate the source, lowering his head and looking in the spaces between the boards. He'd known mongrels to approach if they smelled food, or if people were injured, but his canned dinner wouldn't have given off that powerful of a scent to escape the confines of the building and he had no injuries to lure with the smell of blood, so he had no idea what had brought the thing near.

The creature's growl grew louder, and Danse could hear it panting now, just inches from his face. He could smell its foul breath as it came closer, separated only by the feeble boards of the shack. He refused to breathe, dared not make a sound. The animal sniffed a bit more, then padded away and the world went quiet again.

Danse's chin dropped and he closed his eyes as he exhaled. Hopefully it wouldn't return with a pack.

Returning to his bag, he crawled back into it and resumed his even breathing, and soon he was asleep.  



	2. Half Wild

 

 

The sun had been up for a while before Danse opened his eyes to the morning. He could tell because the light was streaming through the window at a higher angle than he would have preferred.

He'd slept fitfully through the night, if it could even be called sleeping. His nightmares had gotten worse since the truth of his identity was revealed, which compounded the horrors he faced when his eyes closed. He'd hoped that leaving everything he'd known behind him would improve his sleep, but the monsters merely changed. Now, instead of seeing his friend turned into a super mutant, teammates, brothers and sisters and his mentor die in front of him and not be able to save them, his dreams transformed to show him his true self - the machine - killing them all with his own hand.

By the early hours just before dawn, he'd fallen into an exhausted, dreamless sleep, and he certainly didn't feel much better now than he had when his eyes closed.

These new dreams weren't far off the truth. He knew he was responsible for most of their deaths because of decisions he'd made. The wrong decisions. The others.... Well, if he'd been there, been closer or faster, or a better shot, he could have saved them.

Danse listened quietly for a few moments, noting the birds already singing their chipper tunes. He wondered what it must be like to be a bird. Did they worry about anything other than whistling cheerful melodies all day? Certainly they would hunt for food, and find shelter, but what else was there? They had wings and could fly wherever they wanted. Did they try?

He thought it might be nice to have wings; To just lift himself into the air and fly far away. Yet what would be the point? He was the real enemy, and he couldn't escape himself.

Gathering his things, he repacked his bag, attached his combat knife to his belt and stepped warily out of the shelter. Scanning his surroundings for danger, he saw nothing, nor did he hear anything but the sound of carefree birds and the wind blowing through the tops of the trees.

He glanced over at the dirt under the window where the creature had approached the night before, and he moved closer to examine the tracks. They were big. Bigger than any mongrel paw print he'd ever seen before, the thick pads spread wider apart.

Spreading his hand he placed it over the print, his eyes widening as he compared the two sizes. It was well over half his palm, which meant the animal's body would be well over half his size. He'd better stay alert in case it came back, or followed him.

Moving off to the broken sign, he headed in the direction the arrow was pointing, which just happened to be southwest. He figured he might as well follow it, since he was heading in that general direction already. Having a semi-clear path already cut out would make travel a bit faster. It was half covered in overgrowth after all the years of neglect and abandonment, but he could still make enough of it out to walk along the packed dirt with relative ease.

The trees were thick there, and he could smell the musty earth under his feet and a sharp, resinous scent permeated his senses as he took in a deep breath and started off. Whatever it was, it was coming from the trees around him, refreshing his mind and soothing his frazzled emotions.

Sunshine was streaming through the tree tops, casting shadows across the path as he moved along, lending an uplifting feel to the morning air. He walked along for a few miles, taking in as much of this new environment as he could. He was actually beginning to enjoy the hike. The temperature wasn't as hot under the leafy umbrella, and the cool breeze that wafted through was quite invigorating.

As he moved along at a moderate pace, a flash of color caught his eye and he stopped. Not far away, close to a hedge of bushes, were some berries. His stomach growled and he went closer to get a better look, hoping they might be edible. The foliage they were attached to was a on a ledge of rocky terrain at the side of a steep cliff, though, and he wouldn't be able to reach them to pluck them off unless he went farther out.

_Probably safer just to move on and hope something else is up ahead._

No point risking a fall for something he wasn't even sure was safe to eat.

He turned back to move on, but some pebbles under the toe of his boot caused his foot to slip and he stumbled, taking a step backward toward the edge, promptly losing balance because of the weight of the pack on his back that forced him to take another step backward to rebalance, and he felt the ground give way under him.

_Oh shit!_

He lost his grip on his gun as his hands reached out to grab anything available, but there was nothing but rocks along the side of the ridge. The sharp rocks tore at the sleeves of his flannel shirt, biting and tearing into the flesh of his forearms, cutting into his hands and fingers.

He continued sliding, going down faster and faster until his left leg hit a rock that was jutting out from the face of the cliff. The sound was ghastly, a heavy crack, and pain ripped through him. The collision flipped him sideways, and Danse yelled out, his fingers clawing for a hold, but there was still nothing. He plummeted another fifteen feet when his torso impacted with a broken branch protruding from the cliff face, the weight of his body enough to force the jagged edge to impale him like a sword. The branch broke as his body continued to fall, but it was pulled away from his wound by the difference in speed.

A moment later he hit the bottom with a dull, sickening thud, the blood-covered stick hitting the ground nearby. He lay there, half on his back and half on his right side, pain surging through every nerve.

_So much for adrenaline kicking in and dulling the pain._

Danse looked down at his abdomen to see blood soaking through his shirt. He moved the material to get a better look, and saw a good sized hole - about the diameter of two of his fingers - and red seeping from the wound. His entire torso felt as if someone had drenched him in gasoline and thrown a lit match.

He was in trouble. A lot of trouble. His first aid supplies were nearly nonexistent, and he had no Stimpaks. He hadn't made it back to his quarters after the confrontation with Maxson, and his cap stash on hand had been limited. It was either buy a weapon to replace the laser rifle he'd had to give up (they were far too recognizable and would bring attention to him which he couldn't afford to draw), or buy a few medical items.

His rifle was laying many yards away, out of reach and he knew he needed to recover it. If by some miracle it wasn't broken, he couldn't reach it for it to do him any good. Not like this. He'd have to crawl to it.

Turning over onto his stomach, Danse put his lacerated forearms into the ground. His leg twisted, sending a bolt of agony up into his hip and his jaw clenched to keep from screaming again. He pulled himself several inches at a time, again and again, his entire body breaking out in a heavy sweat from the pain and exertion. He pushed himself on, determined to get to his weapon.

A low rumble sounded from nearby. He recognized it as a growl and froze, looking up slowly.

No more than a dozen feet away was a huge beast with yellow eyes, covered in thick black fur. Its white fangs were bared at him. It snapped its teeth in a snarl and he immediately recognized it as the same creature that had been outside the shack the night before.

Danse shifted onto one elbow and reached slowly for the shaft of his knife, but the animal seemed to know what he was doing and it snapped at him again, though it didn't come closer.

"Take it easy," he said as gently as he could manage, putting his hand back down. "I won't hurt you if you don't hurt me," he offered, knowing the animal couldn't understand him, but maybe if he could soothe it with a calm voice it would lose interest and go way.

The animal stopped growling, to his surprise, and sat back on its haunches to watch him. Danse felt his strength leaving him as the blood loss and pain wore out his body, and a small wave of nausea swept over him, making his head droop and he groaned as sweat dripped down his forehead and ran off the tip of his nose.

The beast whined, as if in sympathy, and Danse looked back up at it, its yellow eyes almost piteous as it studied him.

"Know of any doctors around?" he grunted, "Now would be a good....time to get....them, be...cause I'm....going...to..."

 _Hell_.

Blackness enveloped his vision and his mind went blank, his body dropping to the ground as he passed out.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
  
He heard noises around him before he could make his eyelids cooperate and open - shuffling of feet on bare wood planks and soft humming as something clunked metal. His limbs felt far too heavy to move and he started to panic, trying to sit up and find the source of everything that seemed wrong with this situation.

A woman moved over to him, her light grey eyes soft and her face kind as the blurriness faded and his vision was filled with her image.

"You're safe," she spoke quickly, her tone tender and warm. "Seems you had quite a nasty accident. Just relax so I can finish tending your wounds."

Danse just blinked at her. He didn't know why he believed her, he just did. Something about her was just so calming that he felt his muscles unfold and he eased back into the mass of fur blankets underneath him.

She retreated to a large kettle over a fire, stirring the contents and tossing in a handful of what looked to him like plant parts. He glanced around him, looking for his things.

"Don't worry, I didn't steal your stuff. It's all right underneath you," she said without even turning to look at him.

How had she known what he was thinking? Had he said something without realizing it?

"Your leg is busted," she told him as she came back with some strips of wet fabric in a bowl. "How'd you fall?"

Danse glanced down at his leg. It had been reset, stabilized with some splints and wrapped. What flesh he could see was greatly discolored with deep purple and blue-black bruising, and it hurt like hell.

"Slipped at a cliff edge," he replied hoarsely, "then the ground under me broke away."

"Ah," she nodded while wringing out the fabric and folding it into a small square. "The ledges aren't safe places to walk, especially for a man of your size."

"Noted," he grimaced when she packed his ab wound with some green leaves and placed the moist material over it.

He watched her eyes while she worked, noticing that when the light struck them just so, they shimmered like fine silver. Her deep brown hair was wound together in a messy style, strands hanging around her oval face. She didn't seem that old, though he could be wrong. Maybe in her mid thirties?

"Care to tell me your name, and what you're doing around here?" she asked nonchalantly while she wrapped clean, dry strips of material around his belly.

"Um...Danse," he sucked in a breath as she pulled the ends taut and tied them, "and I'm just passing through."

She glanced at him before gathering her things and moving back across the room.

"Where are you from, Danse?"

He frowned at the question, suddenly much more uneasy with not knowing where he was, and why she was asking. "A long way away." It was all he was willing to divulge.

"Okay, don't tell me if you don't want to," she replied, seeming indifferent to his vague answer. "We all have things we'd rather not talk about."

He ignored that, preferring to change the subject.

"Who are you, and...how did you find me?"

She lifted a bundle of plants off the table and hung them from a little hook in the ceiling, returning to the table to tie another bundle and repeat the action.

"I'm Gal."

_Odd name._

"Gal?"

"Yes," she said with her back to him, her arms reaching above her head as she continued her chore, "it's short for Galatea. My great-grandmother had a fondness for ancient Greek mythology. As for how I found you...Adohi led me to you." She pointed off to the side of the room and Danse turned to look.

There, laying on a thick, braided rug near the open door was the black beast, its yellow eyes watching intently, head nestled on its enormous paws.

"He's your pet?" Danse asked in surprise.

The woman laughed. It was light and airy, and sent tingles down his spine.

"Goodness no. Adohi is my friend. He comes and goes as he pleases, but he's never far away."

"Why would he bring you to me?"

She turned to him, an expression on her face that suggested he'd asked a silly question.

"I assume because you asked him to."

Danse glanced back at the....dog? It didn't look like any of the dogs he'd ever seen.

"You're saying he understood me?"

Gal chuckled. "You think just because he's an animal that he's dumb?"

"No, that's not what I was implying," he breathed. "Do you always twist the meaning of people's words?"

"Do you always insult the friends of people who are trying to help you?" she tossed back.

Danse sighed. This was getting him nowhere.

He shifted to ease his aching back, and a shot of pain went through him like an arrow, making him grit his teeth. The woman watched him, motionless for a moment, then went to a container on a shelf and pulled out a few pieces of something. She put it into a little pot of water and set it above the flames in the hearth.

"What's that?" he asked curiously.

"Tea for your pain. It won't eliminate it, but it should decrease it some."

"Can't I just buy a Stimpak from you?" he asked grumpily.

The woman looked at him blankly. "You're out of luck. The last Stimpak seen up here was years ago."

 _Damn_.

"Is there a doctor close?"

"I'm afraid," the woman's pale eyes darted away, looking hurt, "that I'm all you've got."

He sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful."

She went to the pot and stirred the contents around a bit. "It's fine. I'm used to it."

Danse felt like a jerk, though he didn't know why. It wasn't like he'd said anything purposefully cruel. Better change the subject again.

"So your...not pet.... What is he?"

Gal tossed him another of those looks that said he was asking yet another ridiculous question.

"You've never seen a wolf before?"

He shook his head. "Mongrels mostly. Sometimes a traveler will have a dog, or I'll see an occasional stray mutt. A friend had one named Dogmeat; Good dog. Horrible name."

"Indeed," she nodded, not looking over.

Danse glanced back over at the wolf. "Why do you call him Adohi?"

The wolf lifted his head at Danse when he heard his name and watched, as if waiting for further conversation.

"It means 'timber' in my great-grandmother's language."

Well, that made sense. After all, it did come from the woods.

Danse slowly put his hand out towards the beast and it rose to its feet and padded over. It sniffed his hand and then sat down. Danse eased his hand to its fur and ran his fingers through it. It wasn't coarse as he'd expected, but rather soft and warm, like a plush blanket on a cold day.

The wolf edged closer to Danse's bed and leaned into his fingers when he scratched behind an ear.

"If he's wild," Danse thought aloud, "why didn't he attack me out there? I would have made a pretty easy meal." At least, once he'd passed out.

"Adohi doesn't kill people for food, nor for fun. And he knows who can be trusted."

That brought Danse's eyes to the woman's face. "What if he's wrong?"

_How would a wild animal know if a synth could be trusted?_

She shrugged. "Then he'll rip out your throat and be done with you."

Danse grunted and looked back at the beast. He didn't doubt her words in the slightest, and prayed he'd never give the animal the wrong impression by any of his actions. He'd seen the wolf's teeth, and he certainly had no wish to feel them sinking into his flesh.

"I hope you're not one for jumping to wrong conclusions," he told Adohi. "I'd rather stick to being on your good side."

Adohi just blinked at him, but from the corner of his eye, Danse saw the woman smile at his words, and he forced himself no to glance up. He didn't need to get any more familiar with her, her wolf, or her home than he absolutely had to. He just needed to heal and be on his way.

The wolf moved from his hand and jumped over him onto the bed, making a couple circles before lying down near Danse's feet, paws stretched out and muzzle between its legs.

Apparently the beast had other ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have Native American ancestors (a little Cherokee....and a teeeeeny bit of Choctaw) but none of my living relatives speak either language (it was lost when my great great grandmother passed, and I never got a chance to learn), so if any of you DO speak the Tsalagi language, please correct me on anything I get wrong!!! 
> 
> I could definitely use an appropriate Beta on this story.


	3. Residue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know Galatea from her POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spent the day writing this for you guys. Hope you like it.

 

Galatea set the woven basket on the ground at her feet, pulling a wet shirt from inside it to hang over the clothes line just outside her back door. Her nimble fingers ran across the scratchy fabric as she wondered about the man it belonged to.

Her patient was currently sleeping - thanks to her Willow Bark tea with splash of whiskey to relax him. Ever since he'd come to from his blackout, he'd refused to rest. Every noise made him jump, and his eyes constantly shifted, as if searching for anything that might present a danger.

She supposed that wasn't so strange. After all, nothing about this life was easy or safe. Danger lurked around every corner and if you let yourself become negligent... Well, death was sure to find you.

But this man? There was something deeper to his wary vigilance - as if he were expecting trouble - and that made Gal nervous. She had enough of her own problems to deal with, she didn't need whatever trouble this man was bringing to her door. Unfortunately, her sympathy for his current state prevented her from turning him away.

His leg was badly broken, and the puncture in his side wasn't going to be a quick wound to heal, either. She needed time to make sure he was free of infection and that the bone was setting properly. It wasn't going to happen overnight, or even in a couple weeks. Without Stimpaks, injuries such as these were going to take at least a month - on top of those weeks - of feeding him, and bathing him, and making sure he kept off his feet, for him to recover.

Gal's cheeks flushed as she recalled having to remove his shirt so she could tend his wound, revealing Danse's chiseled chest, the dusting of dark hair across it that trailed down his stomach to disappear into the waist of his pants. Then she'd cut up his pant leg to work on his broken leg and found herself working on a very strong, muscular limb that had no right to make her heart beat so fast.

If those had been the only things about him that made her blood run a little hotter, she could have just overcome them with a blanket tossed across him. But nope, nothing could ever be that easy for her.

Why did he have to be so goddamn handsome?

Galatea had always found darker haired men more to her liking, and Danse's warm black hair tempted her to run her fingers through it, though she didn't dare. And the way his eyes studied her made her stomach quiver in excitement, even though she knew there was nothing more behind it than curiosity.

Thank the stars she was fairly strong, or else she may never have gotten him onto the travois in the first place. Getting him off it and onto the bed had been even more of a chore, and by the time she'd finished the task, she'd touched nearly every inch of his body and was sweating like mad - and not just from the exertion.

If ever there was a perfect man to look at, Danse - if that was actually his real name - was it.

_Get over it, Gal. He's not for you._

The thought was sobering, and she frowned as disappointment settled over her again.

Galatea Dekklin had no right to dream of having a man of her own. That's what all the people of her settlement - or what used to be - believed. She wasn't normal enough to find a husband and have a family. She was cursed.

At times, Gal felt as if that notion might be true. She did feel cursed; Cursed to live alone, cursed to go through life as a misfit, avoided by all because of what made her different. The townspeople had shied away from her even when she was a child, and it wasn't until she was a bit older - around fourteen years of age - that she'd finally understood why.

Her great grandmother had been a powerful woman, but not in the sense that one normally has power. While she did hold a sort of regard among their people, it was more out of fear than esteemed awe and wonder, and definitely not because she held some kind of authority over them. In fact, most of them had shunned her, just as they now shunned Gal. Not for anything harmful she'd done, or might have threatened to do, but simply because of what she was.

And what Galatea could be, if she chose to.

A sound behind her pulled Gal's attention and she looked back to find Adohi standing in the open doorway, staring at her.

"Is he awake already?" Danse had been there for just over twelve hours now, and he'd only managed a few hours of sleep.

The wolf gave a yawn in answer, and she sighed.

"Alright, I'll be right there," she said, pinning the last of the washing to the line as the wolf padded silently inside. She picked up the empty basket and headed back.

Light brown eyes found her when she crossed the threshold, and Gal quickly moved further away from the injured man's line of sight, using her shelves of bottled potions, cans of ointment and jars of dried herbs as obstructions to his view.

"Gal?" His voice was quiet and a bit shaky.

"I'm just putting away my things." She took a deep breath as she replaced her basket in its position under her cutting table, and wiped her nervous palms across the front of her pant legs before approaching him. "What can I do for you?"

"I um... need to," his face reddened and he glanced away, drawing her attention to how his fingers were twisting absently at a string that had come loose on his blanket, "use your, um...facility."

She suddenly felt as embarrassed as he looked. She hadn't even thought about having to help him to the bathroom. God, how rude he must think she was!

 _That, or just plain stupid._ How could she have forgotten about such necessary amenities?

"Of course!" and she moved to his side and helped him shift his busted leg off the bed.

Danse grimaced hard, and his breathing became labored, but he didn't utter a sound as he put his arm around her shoulders and accepted her support. He was heavy, his solid form made of pure muscle, and Gal struggled to keep both of them upright.

"I'm sorry to have to make you do this," he said when they reached the little room.

"It's not a problem. I'll see about trying to find you some kind of crutches," she offered as she backed out of the room. "Just let me know when you're ready to head back." He nodded, and she closed the door to give him privacy.

An hour later found him back on the bed, with his belly full of scrambled eggs and toast, and being pestered by his furry bunkmate for scratches behind itchy, pointed ears.

Gal didn't miss how the serious expression on Danse's face eased every time Adohi moved closer to him.

It made her both happy and sad to see Adohi take to this stranger so readily. Danse was in her home; a potential threat being so close, but knowing Adohi trusted him, it eased her worries. But on the other hand it was troubling, watching her only friend attaching himself to the man so quickly, so easily... Gal was worried how Adohi would react when Danse's wounds were healed and he moved on.

Would he stay with her, or would he follow Danse?

It would break her heart to see the big wolf go. He'd been her companion for over three years now, and she'd come to care for him deeply. She shouldn't feel jealous of Danse, but it was there, niggling in the pit of her stomach.

What if Adohi chose Danse over her?

Obviously she couldn't control the bond that had already been formed between them. It was strong. Instinctual. Not that Adohi didn't care for her. She knew he did - he'd risked his life on more than one occasion to keep her safe - but whatever this link was between the wolf and this stranger was deeper and far more natural than she wanted to accept. 

"I take it you're not a cat person," Gal teased as she kneaded a ball of dough.

"Actually, I had a few cats back on the Pr-....the place I stayed at for a while. They weren't mine, I just fed them and gave them attention when they wanted it."

What had he been about to say? He'd said "on" instead of "in", which certainly hadn't been spoken in error, so whatever this "Pr-" was, it was definitely the name of a thing.

"Surprising," she replied. "I wouldn't have pegged you as an animal person at all."

"Why's that?"

She shrugged, keeping her eyes on her task.

Gal wondered, what did an animal person look like? Was there a list of personal qualities that could define one? There were all types of people in the world, and as far as she could tell, there was nothing in particular that separated animal lovers from haters. Even cruel men could love a beast, if they wanted to - she had seen the proof first hand. Maybe the love was different, but maybe not. She couldn't say what the man had felt for his pet, but she knew he'd crossed a desert and killed the entire group that had stolen it. Who would do that for a pet, if not someone that loved it?

"Truthfully, I have no idea. I'm terrible at reading people. All my experiences show that most people are motivated by fear or greed, so I can't really say much about anything else."

Gal blanched when she realized how easily the words had flowed from her mouth.

_Why the hell did I tell him that?_

She glanced up to find him looking at her with a blank expression before burying her eyes behind loose strands of hair.

Great. Now he was going to think she was some kind of lunatic.

Moments passed in silence as she turned the dough over and over, working it until it was ready to be set off to the side.

"Someone in your life has shown you compassion," she heard him say as she moved to start a new pot of coffee.

"What makes you think that?"

"...If they hadn't, then you wouldn't have shown it to me."

That was true enough, she had to admit. Her grandmother had been the kindest person she'd known. But she'd died when Gal was eight, and with her mother gone before that - and no other relatives to take her in besides her great grandmother - there had been no one else.

Not that she hadn't learned from her great grandmother. Giggi Dekklin was a wise woman, full of the knowledge of nature and the world beyond, but she hadn't been the loving type. Love, yes. She loved Galatea, but it was a hard love. The kind that gave harsh lessons and no affection. Rewards weren't sitting at Giggi's side in the springtime to watch the birds sing, or snuggling with her at the winter hearth and eating sweet cakes; they were being released from the garden work an hour early one day a week, or letting Gal sleep in fifteen extra minutes one day a month.

Not that Gal despised Giggi for it. Not at all. She'd taught Gal everything she knew about nature's medicines and treating illness, and for that, Gal would be forever grateful. Sometimes she just wished....

_What would it be like to have someone love me so much they would cross a desert to find me and bring me home?_

 


End file.
